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his ex mother in law had been an ice-skating teacher.
her ex mothers in law had been housewives, substitute teachers, bank stafff
his parents were cool New York artists.
her parents were - well, there were lots of them but teacher, preacher, handymen
his grandfather had been into unions
or had he busted them? anyway, he had a special glove that either had to get repaired or finally shelved recently.
his mother had died a year and some days ago.
she had died long ago for him though.
so it felt like it didn't matter - although it had to have, "they made me take a week off work, so I cleaned my fridge. I felt like I had to do something."
they laughed. they always were so simpatico then. he was in. she was only just starting to tighten up and was always testing - always - but he was passing passing passing. yay.
she remembers sitting on the sofa next to him - when he used to sit next to her - and him discussing a work text string "shit! I accidentally heart emoji-ed. I meant to just like it. oh well, can't change it."
He used to dream about doing shit with her.
"hey you should - I'll take you - go to the lynching museum in Alabama. I swear, it is epic. everyone should go. I'll go again."
She had pointed out a Mexican restaurant in Athens that was still there from when she was in school, "oh my god. I can't believe La Fiesta is still there. that's where all my credit card debt began - margaritas and tacos!" His response was, "we'll have to go there next time."
but she had asked him if he liked her - she had scared him - in beloved holy wilmington, and they hadn't repaired it - they had just kept moving on. it was an error. another one was when
oh she had them lined up by a string - she trotted them out every day. today's wound was just remembering when he stroked her cashmere sweater when he was tipsy - with her body in it of course - and how he lusted her and wanted her.
it had been so much easier then.
before the bizarre cuddling on his back with him acting like nothing was there. with her reaching around to his chest and him either ignoring it or slightly moving .
she obviously still loved him.
she wishes she had been a famous neurosurgeon or a pastry chef or something that he would have found interesting - or that she had finally been able to relax and stop auditioning - stopped waiting and just said "in or out"
she acts like that is everything, "if only I'd said something - we'd still be together."
a more painful truth we all know.
it didn't matter what she said or didn't say.
she wondered if she should make the bed or wash the sheets.
she wonders if she should go for a walk now. it's already too late for the grass.
she still hasn't showered since the Athens bath though - cutting the grass would def sweat her into a shower.
she remembers driving down to Florida with him - last august - after he came back from the shoot and calling her all the time and just ahhhh - and seeing on his console "Wednesday prayer Circle" and going "whoa shit - had no idea. this is odd."
and him saying laughing that it was a joke - that's what their work group called the Wednesday meeting - and they text from it.
it was his idea to name it that.
she loved him.
it didn't matter anymore.
she didn't care. this was her tapping. not yours.
the sky was a gorgeous blue. the grass was fucking verdant. there were wispy watercolor white clouds.
she kept forgetting what she wanted to say - what was important, but maybe she'd think of it later and write it somewhere else.
she had cried today - thinking again how fucked up it is that she'll die without ever hearing him say, "and at crafty, we had the most crazy mushroom meatloaf. I ate it."
or see that he went to a museum while he was walking around.
or see him ever.
it made her understand - even if you don't - why she won't wash her hair.
(hint: she loses another connection to him - think baptism - think shared water - think depression)
---
the last time she had been in his house, she was sheepish and shy. she had kept waiting for the calm security of being his chosen one - yet, it never came, so she was always apologetic about existing - the usual bullshit defense. egads. so they had come back from the mental fuck that - no matter how secure and enlightened and therapied she gets, they always fuck her up - or rather she lets them - whatever, so she's all in that mess.
stopping to pee and say goodbye at his place. unlike in November, he's not asking her to stay for chili (she'll spend nine fucking months wondering why why why but that's the other stories) she loads her bag in her trunk and then comes back with his Christmas gifts - in a big Aldi's bag. he doesn't even care to look at it - nor had he unwrapped it when she texted him later. she takes that as more evidence in the courtroom she's convened at the trial of He Doesn't Like you (winner) vs. He Does Like You. later, he'll mention he has an Aldi's bag in his backseat - as he's leaving her house for the last time. He'll be in wonderment, "wow, oh look. I have an Aldi's bag."
"I know, I gave it to you. It was your Christmas wrapping."
"oh"
he had given her a perfect gift wrapped in perfect wrapping (he was great at wrapping - hmmm). He texted her almost immediately to make sure she had gotten it. earlier, he had also said, "oh, we're doing gifts."
oh well.
it had been a bit of confusing.
she missed every fucking drop of possibility.
now, it was back to reading and walking and fake smiles even alone.
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